One Dragon
by ScytheRider
Summary: The story of one dragon's struggle to survive. The first in a series of one-shots which tells a greater story. Rated T for basis on dark themes.


**I**

Hunger.

It is the only thing we know.

The desire for satisfaction. For food. For comfort.

For power.

It is the reason we awaken each morning, the reason we crawl across the surface of the earth each day, the very reason we live and eat and breathe. It is all to fill the hunger that burns deep within the core of our beings.

Hunger is what defines us, it is what makes us wild. We have never known anything different. We have never known anything more.

The hunger is what keeps us alive.

We are the animals who cover the Earth, dwelling in forests and mountain caves and valleys. We are the feral creatures who prowl through the prairies, lurk in the branches of trees, and soar across the night sky. We are the eternal, the unconquerable, the undisturbed, the free. Never seen by human eye, never touched by human hand—we are the wild Pokémon, forever living and thriving in a world all of our own.

In our world, only the strongest survive...

…and only hunger can make us stronger.

Only those whose stomachs burn with the blaze of starvation will find the true strength to fight for their food. Only those whose spirits are alive with the boiling of hatred will develop the power needed to dominate their enemies. Life is deserved only by those who truly desire to live.

I watch as my prey burns to the ground, its life long gone, evaporated from its body by the raging flames which covered it. I watch as small parts of the body crumble and fall away as ash upon the blood-soaked rocks. I find I can no longer recognize what kind of creature it once was, nor do I care. It is food. It is the fulfillment of my hunger.

I see the claws and the teeth which refuse to burn, the very weapons by which the creature once fed and defended itself. I see them standing out amidst the dying flames like pure, white stones amidst a wasteland of ash. They were short, dulled, and had failed the creature in its hour of need. They did nothing to stop me from ending its life, and would now be left behind as a pile of waste to shatter and blow away in the wind.

As I devour the creature, breathing in the ashes which are still floating amidst the air, my belly finds a measure of relief. As the corpse disappears from the ground, so does my hunger.

For but a moment, I am content.

But I knew, like nearly every creature, that the hunger would never stay away forever. It would return, just like it always did.

Some hungers return immediately. Others come only once a day, like the moon, or once a season, like the moon's shapes. In fulfilling these hungers, we form the cycles and routines which make up our behavior. Our habits. Our life.

A strong cry fills the air, a bellow far superior to anything I could have produced from my own throat.

I find a new kind of hunger ignited in my heart—fear. The hunger for safety.

After a few moments, the cry sounded again. Deep and powerful, it, too, was a cry of hunger. I knew it was a creature much like myself, except that I would have been considered its prey, and it, the predator. I did not recognize the sound of the roar, nor did I care. It was danger. And I did not deserve to die.

Like a startled vermin, I fled, leaving my half-finished prey lying on the rocks. It was a fair trade for my life.

That day, however, I had underestimated that predator's hunger. Unsatisfied with my offering, it chose the fresh, bloody meat over the steaming, charred rejects. I heard its cry now, closer than ever. The ground shook as it leaped again and again, searching for me, tearing up the short shrubs which I tried to hide under as I made my escape.

Every creature great and small knows that feeling—the feeling when simple fear suddenly becomes panic. The heart first skips a beat, then pounds at an accelerated pace. The skin tingles from head to toe as the body fills with unexpected, unprecedented stamina. The eyes widen, the breath shortens, and every little surge in the mind re-directs to one goal: survival.

_Darkness_, my mind was saying. _I need darkness. Darkness is safety. Darkness will keep me alive._ Alas, my lair—the mountain crevice in which I slept each night—was miles away. I could not flee there. I needed to find somewhere else. Against such a superior enemy, I needed to be in my element. I needed to be in my most familiar surroundings. It was the only way I could face it.

But the darkness was not there for me. There were no caves for me to hide in. No shadows to shelter me. Nothing but open, exposed wilderness. Nothing for me to do but flee from the predator who would undoubtedly overtake me. I regretted my decision of the territory I had chosen to hunt. I did not think there would be any resistance, but I was wrong. And now, I would have to pay for my mistake.

By instinct, I dropped and ran with all four limbs for extra speed. The vibrations in the ground told me that my pursuer was doing the same.

My instincts were also telling me something different—they were telling me to fly. To escape the danger by leaping into the air and to attack the enemy from above. But the instincts came too early, for I did not yet have wings. It was only because of my instincts that I knew I would one day fly, I but feared that the day was on the verge of being taken away from me…

The enemy was close, now. Its presence surged through the air like lightning, trying to paralyze me with intimidation. I would not outrun it. I had to turn and fight. It was time to see if my strength was enough to defend me. I could no longer rely on my talons to escape, I would have to use my claws. My teeth.

My fire.

It burned. It erupted all around me, consuming the grass and plants which covered the ground. To my front, to my sides, it billowed up like a massive pyre. From within my belly, I created the curtains of flame to shield me from the foe and give me the advantage in the fight I could not avoid. Again and again, pillars of flame spewed from my mouth, catching every sapling, every tuft of grass in sight. Soon, I was surrounded by the fire. The fire I called my own.

Would it be enough?

I held by breath, cowering behind the wall of flames that I created. I could see its silhouette through the fire as it prowled around, looking for a way in. Looking for me. Seeking to destroy me for whatever reason it desired—perhaps to teach me a lesson, or indeed, perhaps to devour me for sustenance. Waiting for the very moment I would try to escape from my ring of fire. Pacing. Waiting. Watching.

The feeble branches around me would not burn for long. Soon, they would dissolve to the ground and go out, leaving me exposed. My mind raced for an answer as I watched the flames flicker and bend under the force of the breeze. There was only one thing I could do: think quickly, calculate the odds, and try to catch the beast off-guard…

I do not remember much of what happened during that battle, save for how it started. I waited a few more moments just until the fire started to become extinguished and release thick clouds of smoke into the air. From behind my smoke screen, I aimed at the beast and leaped high into the air, aiming for its head. Trying to scratch at its eye. Trying to impede it any way I could.

The pain. It's the only thing that sticks out in my mind. The enemy clawed me. It bit me. It slammed me to the ground, all the while I scrambled to defend myself, counter-attacking when I could, keeping escape first and foremost in my mind. The battle was hopelessly intense; I couldn't even comprehend the shape of the foe, or my position relative to it—I did not even catch sight of more than a tiny portion of the creature at any point of time. All I cared about was survival. My vision was a blur. My most primal of instincts were in complete control.

When the battle ended, I didn't even see it coming.

I assaulted the foe with fire. I dodged. Or maybe it shoved me, I couldn't tell. Before I knew what was happening, I was falling. Tumbling. With each rotation of my body, my head was slammed against a solid rock wall. I felt the air rushing past my wounded body in every direction imaginable.

The back of my head slammed into a pillar of stone protruding from the ground, breaking my fall and emptying the breath from my lungs. I felt paralyzed with pain, only able to look forward.

There, on the cliff far above me, stood the beast I had battled. For the first time, I could see it clearly for what it was. It was a truly monstrous being, many times my own size. It was covered in blue and black fur, with streaks of yellow along its legs. It stared down at me with a horrible gaze that made my blood run cold, as if it saw straight through me and into my very thoughts.

It released a roar which could have shook the ground, making its hatred of me very clear. Leaving me scarred. Then, it turned away from me and left. As it disappeared from sight, a golden talisman swung through the air in its wake.

As I laid there, feeling my body throb and recover, my consciousness finally caught up with me.

It finally made sense.

I recognized the creature. The prey I had slaughtered had been a youngling of the same species.

What a fool I had been, to ambush a parent and its child on their afternoon hunt. I should have known the catch was too easy. I should have felt it. I should have recognized my prey. I should have recognized that it was a child of a creature I feared and could not defeat.

Hunger can blind.

Indeed, hunger can blind.

Even though its own child had been lost, it chased me, realizing that I could be a threat to the rest of its pack. It knew it had to defeat me, or at least break me, lest I get the idea to return to the same place for more food.

To live in a pack… now _that_ was a feeling I would never have understood. I lived alone. I did not have others like me to protect me from predators, to watch over me while I sleep, or to share the burden of hunting for food. I had not even found a mate—or any other of my own kind, for that matter…

I understood well enough how great the desire must have been to have offspring, to live in a family, to protect and nurture one's own kin… It is, after all, a kind of the most powerful hunger: the hunger for survival. The survival of not only oneself, but the rest of one's species. In a way, it was a hunger for immortality.

And to think I had so mercilessly slaughtered its child at the moment its head was turned… I knew now that I had angered it far beyond anything that I could have comprehended.

But it didn't matter.

I had survived for another hour, a feat in and of itself in the harsh world in which I tried to live. That was all which mattered. I had escaped, living to learn from my mistakes and add to my repertoire of instincts. It wasn't the first time I'd narrowly escaped with my life. And it wouldn't be the last, not until the day would come when I'd close my eyes and never open them again. Not until the day my fire would no longer burn.

I lay with my head against the stone, feeling the blood empty out of me through the wounds which covered me.

I wanted to lay there until I felt comfortable once more. I wanted to reflect upon my experience with my aching head, never moving a muscle until they no longer seared with pain at each slightest twitch. But it was something I could not do. I was no longer just prey. I was vulnerable prey. I was weak and defenseless, ready for the taking. If I wanted to stay alive, I needed to keep moving.

Hunger.

It is what defines us. It is what encompasses every slightest aspect of our lives.

For every hunger which is satisfied, there is another hunger, somewhere, which grows.

For every creature I fill my belly with, another creature loses a family member.

The rule of balance. The most basic, fundamental rule of life. The rule every creature must live by, whether we prowl through the prairies, swim beneath the ocean's surface, burrow through the ground, lurk in the branches of trees, or soar across the night sky. It is not a rule that can be escaped; it must be lived by. To believe one can escape the rule is a sure sign of delusion—a sign that failure is just over the next horizon.

The balance cannot be broken, only tilted. Only the strong may tilt the balance.

Only the strong will survive.

And as I drag my tattered body across the earth, staining the ground with a trail of blood, only one thing is clear in my mind:

_I intend to survive._


End file.
